kill_the_lightsfandomcom-20200215-history
Safest Catch/Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven: Don't Rock the Boat “Last time on Total Drama Island: For Your Entertainment, the drama level was cranked up to eleven for our music video themed challenge.” Chris jumped as thunder crackled outside. “Risty and Zack became partners in crime, Allison and Avery ticked off the entire hotel, and Elena and Gabe ‘strategized’ for their alliance … that is, if relentlessly mocking their teammate counts as a strategy. “For the challenge, The Emmys went Goth for their music video, while The Oscars went … um, I guess you could call it white trash? Irina was thinking quickly when she covered her actors’ faces with masks, sparing them from memorizing their lyrics. Speaking of Irina, when Paul was admiring her from afar, he spotted Camille doing something suspicious in the corner of the room. Meanwhile, Gabe and Elena pestered Minerva into telling her team that she had been faking her cluelessness to get the fans to like her. Risty smelled something fishy and hunted down the truth: Elena just hates Minerva because she’s a total homophobe. “When it was time to present the videos, The Oscars made everybody very uncomfortable with their hip-hop monstrosity, but they won by default when Zack revealed that he’d lost the disc with The Emmys’ video on it. The team was split between sending home Zack or Minerva, and it was Zack’s best buddy Risty who cast the surprise swing vote to send the little guy home. Back at The Hotel, The Oscars found The Emmys’ lost video in their lounge, proving a few minutes too late that this season’s first shocker elimination had been a mistake.” Lightning flashed outside of the windows behind Chris, and the host smirked as thunder boomed. “Well, looks like our competitors will be getting drenched in today’s challenge. With one fan favorite gone already, can the eliminations get any more dramatic? You’ll have to see on this episode of Total … Drama … Island: For Your Entertainment!” “You’re probably wondering why I asked you two to come down here.” “Are you trying to make an alliance?” “No way. Those things never hold up at this point in the game.” Allison rolled her eyes and opened a notebook on her lap. “I wanted to talk to you guys about the stolen music video.” A pajama-clad Allison, Paul, and Angel sat on the floor in the lobby of The Hotel. At dinner, the daredevil had asked the do-gooder and pyromaniac to meet with her in private, and the lobby had been her best idea for a discreet location. The fountain in the center of the room shut off after nine o’clock, so the room was silent enough that they would be able to hear the echo of footsteps if another player were to try to listen in. The pouring rain had brought a sudden chill to McLean Studios, so if anybody questioned what the three Oscars were doing, they could claim that they were just using the fireplace to get warm. “What’s there to talk about?” Angel asked. “We all agreed that night that it was obvious Elena planted the DVD in our room. The issue’s dropped.” “But we can’t drop it yet! If you think about it, that makes absolutely zero sense.” Allison countered. “I don’t think Elena’s smart enough to figure out how to steal the video without being seen. She’s even louder than Avery, so I doubt she’d be able to sneak it into our lounge.” “Maybe she’s smarter than we think.” Paul suggested. “We don’t know her that well. For all we know, she’s a genius.” “Okay, but even if she is a genius, she didn’t know about our team winning the lounge, did she?” The scarlet-haired girl pointed out. “The Emmys weren’t there when the door was unlocked, so Elena didn’t even know at the time that the lounge existed.” Angel and Paul exchanged a look of surprise. “If it wasn’t her, then who did it?” “Let me lay out the facts for you guys.” Allison turned her notebook towards them to reveal that she had written down the names of all of the competitors still left in the game, separated by team into two columns. Paul’s, Isaac’s, and her names had been crossed out. “Zack was on one of The Emmys’ sets when the video was stolen. Angel, you went back to The Hotel to get food. Who’d you go with?” “Irina and Robert.” The pyromaniac stated. Allison crossed Angel’s, Irina’s, and Robert’s names off of the list. “And who else do you remember seeing in the cafeteria?” Angel pursed his lips in thought for a moment. “The Emmys’ table was pretty much full, so I think they were all there except for Zack … oh, and Risty! She came in later to get all of us.” “You’re sure? Even Elena was there?” “Now that you mention it, I’m positive she was there because she and Gabe had started an argument with Monique.” The Puerto Rican confirmed. Allison scratched the names of nine of The Emmys from her page, leaving only Risty’s remaining in the column. “That means that they all have an alibi. They were all at The Hotel, and Zack never left the warehouse. I had a clear view of the warehouse’s only door from where I was sitting, so if somebody tried to sneak their way in I would’ve saw them. The only person I saw leave in that hour was Risty, and I think we can all agree that it wasn’t her.” “Then there’s no way it could’ve been Elena!” Angel exclaimed. “But if it wasn’t her, then it must’ve been somebody from our team.” Paul furrowed his brow. “I really don’t think any of us would do that. Why would they randomly eliminate Zack?” “First we need the who, and then we can get the why.” The punk declared. “You and I were editing the video with Isaac on our side of the warehouse. The three of us sat at that table for the whole hour, so we would’ve noticed if one of us slipped away. Avery, however, stomped off and wasn’t seen again until we showed our videos, so she’s still a possible suspect.” She circled the drama queen’s name several times. “The only others left unaccounted for are Cara and Camille, but I’m pretty sure they were in the bathroom the whole time trashing Cara’s costume.” Allison pointed the end of her pen at Avery’s name. “The facts are all there, boys.” Paul still looked uncertain, his eyes scanning over the page of names again. “We’re supposed to believe you’re blaming Avery because she was left over after using process of elimination … and not because you completely hate her?” “The evidence is right here, Paulie.” The daredevil tapped the notebook several times. “She’s the only real suspect!” “She’s right, man.” Angel agreed. “Unless we have some way to prove one of The Emmys wasn’t in The Hotel, all signs point to Avery.” Paul sighed. “Listen, I know you don’t like her, but it just doesn’t make sense. Why would she want to set up Zack?” “So we would win a challenge that she was in charge of.” Allison explained. “You saw how pissed she got when Isaac said she was a bad leader. She just wanted The Emmys to lose and didn’t care who she had to throw under the bus to make it happen.” “What are we supposed to do about this?” Angel asked when Paul crossed his arms instead of answering. “Should we tell everyone and get her voted off the next time we lose?” The scarlet-haired girl could practically feel the waves of uncertainty radiating from Paul. “I know Paul would feel a lot better if we had more evidence against her, and I’m sure there’re other people on the team who would feel the same. We’ll have to keep an eye on Avery so we can catch her doing something like this before it happens, and then we can take it to the team.” Allison glanced over at Paul, whose stiff posture visibly relaxed. “All that matters now is that we know the truth: we can’t trust Avery.” It was pitch black in Room 206 when Minerva pushed open the door, save for the dim glow of the digital clock on the nightstand. The redhead had a smile on her face as she flicked the light switch on, but her jaw dropped in surprise when she noticed that she wasn’t alone. Risty was sprawled on her bed silently staring up at the ceiling, her hair splayed out like a dark halo around her. Even though she seemed completely unaware that Minerva had even arrived, the loudmouth gave her roommate a weak smile. “Oh, um, hey Risty.” She awkwardly greeted, stepping over a pile of clothing that had been left on the ground. “I had no idea you were still in here. Monique and I were actually just looking for you.” “Oh.” Risty droned, her mind clearly somewhere else. Minerva sat on her own bed, frowning at her dejected roommate. “You’ve been moping around like this for two or three days now.” She commented. “This is because of Zack, isn’t it?” Risty refused to answer, covering her face with her forearms as she groaned in frustration. “You voted for him, didn’t you? And now you feel guilty?” From beneath her arms, the athlete nodded her head. “How’d you guess?” “Monique and I were actually just talking about it – not that we were talking about you behind your back or anything! We just were trying to figure out how I wasn’t eliminated and thought you might’ve been the deciding vote.” Risty nodded again, and her roommate rested her chin on the heel of her hand. “Why’d you vote for him if you knew you’d feel this bad about it?” “Because I’d probably feel ten times worse if I voted for you.” The jock anxiously ran her hands through her hair. “Even though you barely know me, you totally spilled your guts to me during the challenge. I’d have to be heartless to eliminate you after I heard why you acted the way you did, so I couldn’t, even if it meant that the only person who deserved a vote was Zack.” “Well, I’m really grateful that you gave me a chance and kept me around, but you could’ve just voted for somebody totally different and left it up to a tiebreaker.” “I’m not going to waste my vote.” Risty declared. “I only vote for the people who deserve it just in case Chris has some sort of twist planned for the elimination. I don’t want to be responsible for sending someone home because of some cheap trick.” “Oh, that’s smart.” Risty continued gazing up at the ceiling, and Minerva swung her legs back and forth as she pondered how to get her to cheer up. “You know what’ll totally lighten your mood? Girl talk.” “Ugh, I think you’ve got the wrong girl for this.” The athlete moaned, rolling over to face away from her teammate. “No, I’ve got something that’ll keep you interested!” The chatterbox placed her hands on her knees, excitedly leaning towards the other contestant. “I think Zack totally had a crush on you!” Risty didn’t respond for a moment, her expression concealed from Minerva’s view because she had turned over. After a minute, the jock peered over her shoulder. “ … What makes you say that?” “Oh my god, it was so obvious! He’s clung to you since the minute you were put on the same team, and he practically had hearts in his eyes when you stole the Chris Bot paper from him! Seriously, when you chose to hang out with him, I’m surprised he didn’t propose to you!” “I really didn’t see any of that.” Risty turned to face Minerva again. “He was just a friend.” “That’s what they all say.” “No, for real, it was nothing like that.” “Then how about anyone else here?” The athlete smirked as she sat up, shaking her hair out even though lying down had barely flattened it. “You think you can find a good contender for me?” “Oh, I totally can!” Minerva excitedly knocked her heels together. “Boys only?” Risty chuckled. “Boys only.” “Um … how about Wes?” “He’s too sweet and seems kind of naïve, and that’s not really my type.” “Oh, so you want somebody super macho then?” The blabbermouth pretended to flex her arms on the word ‘macho.’ “How about Sebastian?” “He seems nice enough, but there’s something about him that’s just a little … I don’t know, off. It’s like he’s always planning something, so he’s really suspicious.” “Okay, um … how about Victor?” Risty cocked a brow. “Didn’t you say you were thinking of someone macho?” She and Minerva burst into giggles at that. “His Shakespeare quotes make me flashback to my lame ninth grade English class. It’s a total turnoff. Plus, I think Ophelia has a claim on him.” “Too afraid she’s actually as wacky as Chris said?” Minerva asked. “Pretty much.” The dark-skinned girl made a beckoning gesture with her hand. “Come on, keep ‘em coming.” “Um …” The redhead drummed her fingers against her knee in thought. “ … Gabe?” Risty gave her an offended stare before she and Minerva burst into cackles. When the athlete doubled over with laughter, Minerva’s smile grew, knowing that she’d succeeded in getting her mind off of the elimination. Confession Cam Minerva: “As bad as I feel that Risty had to eliminate Zack, I’m just so glad it wasn’t me. It feels like my team gave me a second chance, and the longer they have me around, the more they’ll realize that I’m a really good friend. I won’t be faking anything now, no matter what Elena or anybody says! This time, I’m one hundred percent Minerva.” The thunderstorm raged on through the night, and when morning came the sun was obscured by the dark clouds. Rain pounded on the roof of The Hotel, and if anybody dared to draw back their curtains they were greeted with a waterfall running down the windowpane. “If Chris makes us do a challenge today, I’m kicking my soccer ball right into his face.” Risty groaned as thunder crackled overhead. “You know he’s going to.” Minerva replied with a grin, obviously much more of a morning person than her roommate. “Actually, he was probably waiting for it to rain just so we’d suffer more.” “I have no idea how you just said that with a smile.” “It’s a hidden talent I have.” Risty gave her roommate a curt laugh as she held open the door to the cafeteria, Minerva perkily trotting through it. The pair had been awoken early when the harsh wind had blown a stray clapboard against their window, so they had decided to go down to make breakfast for their fellow contestants. To their surprise, when they entered the cafeteria they could hear pans cluttering around in the kitchen and Camille’s voice asking a dozen questions drifting from the food window. Having been relieved of their duties, the two girls walked over to wait at The Emmys’ table only to find that two of their teammates were already there. Minerva and Risty stared in confusion at Wes and Donna. They were fast asleep in chairs beside each other, the smart aleck with her face on the table and the musician with his head tilted back and his mouth wide open. Even when the two girls noisily pulled chairs out and sat down, neither player even stirred. “Um, hello? Earth to Donna and Wes?” Minerva waved her arm in front of her teammates. “''Heeeellloooo?'' Can you hear me?” The redhead turned to Risty with wide eyes. “I think they’re dead!” “Watch and learn, Minerva.” Risty rapidly banged her fist on the table just inches from Donna’s face. The brunette screeched and sat up immediately, looking frantically around the room even though her hair covered her face. “What’s going on?!” She pushed her hair back, revealing dark rings shadowing her blue eyes. “What just happened?” “You were asleep.” Risty gestured towards Wes. “He still is.” Donna stared at her for a few seconds, blinking several times as her drowsy mind struggled to comprehend what her teammate had just said. Eventually, she was able to process the information and leaned over to shake Wes’s shoulder. “Hey, wake up.” The guitarist didn’t respond, his head rolling slightly to the side, so she shook his shoulder a bit harder. “Wake up!” “Huh, what?” Wes slowly picked his head up, stretching his arms and groggily looking around the room. When he realized he was in the cafeteria, he turned to Donna. “I thought you said you weren’t going to let me fall asleep.” “''You'' let me fall asleep.” The brunette argued. “No, I-” Wes interrupted his own sentence with a yawn, which Donna soon copied. “Okay, sleeping beauties, it doesn’t matter who let who fall asleep.” Risty looked between her two exhausted teammates. “Why were you napping here in the first place?” “Because there’s no way anybody could sleep in either of our rooms.” Donna snapped. “There’s this disgusting noise keeping me awake through the walls. The second I close my eyes, all I can hear is this hideous scraping and slobbering.” Risty grimaced. “I’m probably going to regret saying this, but could you maybe go into a little more detail?” “I’m surprised you can’t hear it from your room.” The pale-skinned girl said. “I’d compare it to a chainsaw, except ten times louder and probably trying to cut through cement.” When Risty and Minerva clearly didn’t catch on, Wes sighed. “Victor snores. Loudly.” “‘Loudly’ is a massive understatement.” Donna continued. “It’s not just the typical sawing logs. It’s snorting and slurping and growling, like he’s try to eat his own face or something.” “Try sleeping in the same room as him. As if it couldn’t get any worse, he sings in the shower late at night too.” Wes whined. “For some reason, he just refuses to take a shower at a normal time. No, it gets to like midnight and suddenly it’s impossible to sleep because he’s belting ‘Let’s do the time warp again!’ at the top of his lungs.” “What about Ophelia?” Minerva asked. “She’s your roommate, right? She has to hear it too?” “Ophelia has a crush on Victor, so she thinks it’s cute.” Donna rolled her eyes. “As nice as she is, that girl would probably think road kill was cute. I think she just-” “Good morning, everybody!” The four Emmys turned towards the entrance of the cafeteria, where Victor and Ophelia stood with their arms linked. Looking much more refreshed and alive than their roommates, they marched over to sit on either side of Donna and Wes. Victor gave them a look of disgust. “You two don’t look so good.” “I wonder why.” Wes groaned, and Donna dropped her head back down onto the table. Confession Cam Wes: “If you thought the cafeteria was bad, you should see where else I’ve tried. The first time Victor started, I slept in the lobby, but a few cameramen showed up at the info desk and kicked me out. Then I tried the stairwell, which was a really stupid move on my part. My room’s the last one in the hall, so I could still hear Victor’s snoring.” The guitarist paused to yawn, leaning against the wall beside him. “The next night, I tried to sneak out to sleep on one of the sets, but security guards caught me as soon as I left The Hotel. Then, I asked Sebastian if I could use Zack’s empty bed, but he just laughed and closed the door on me.” He rested his head on the wall and tried to stretch his long legs out, though he ran out of room and had to prop them up on the opposite wall. “Eventually, I found Donna sitting in the hall with the same problem, so we figured two heads are better than one in the hunt for a Victor-free place to sleep. I think Victor and I could be considered friends, but I don’t think he realizes that the things he does affect other people too … actually, maybe he knows it and is too self-absorbed to care. Either is possible.” Wes shrugged and then closed his eyes. After a minute, his breathing became heavier and his head fell to rest his chin against his chest. The video fast-forwarded, though the only sign of movement in the confessional was Wes adjusting in his sleep. When the tape played at normal speed again, somebody was pounding on the door. “Hey, who’s in there?!” The banging continued. “Come on, whoever you are, you’ve been in there forever! Let someone else use the confessional, camera hog!” The door handle jiggled, and Wes finally stirred awake. He pushed his bangs out of his face and eyed the door in confusion. “If somebody’s making out in there, put it back in your pants and take your country matters elsewhere!” Recognizing the voice, Wes sighed and looked up at the camera. “I hate to say ‘I told you so,’ but …” He reached over and unlocked the door, and Victor barged into the confessional. “Oh, it’s just you.” The actor pointed at the door. “Get out, it’s my turn.” Victor: When his roommate shuffled out of the confessional, Victor kicked the door shut behind him. “I can’t even imagine what someone as boring as him could’ve been ranting about in here for so long. While we’re on the topic, can we talk about the fact that he disappears every night? I’m guessing he’s an insomniac or something, though I have no idea how. I don’t know about him, but my mattress is so soft that I’ve probably slept better in this last week than I have in years!” As the cafeteria filled up, Cara and Camille had finally made enough food to start serving waffles to the other competitors. The rain continued beating against the windows, and the storm caused the power to flicker a few times, though it always managed to flash back on a few minutes later. “Hello, Camille.” Sebastian greeted the aristocrat when he reached the front of the breakfast line. “Oh, good morning, Sebastian.” She replied, pleased that somebody had greeted her rather than just held out their plate. “I’m not sure ‘good’ is the right word for the weather right now.” Sebastian gestured towards the window just as a bolt of lightning flashed, thunder crashing a few seconds later. “I’m just happy that we’re in here instead of out there.” The dark-haired girl commented. “My family actually has a maid whose designated job is to hold my umbrella when I go outside, but Chris told me I couldn’t bring her on the show.” “Aw, that’s too bad.” Sebastian gave her a sympathetic grin that was faker than Rachel Claire’s veneers. When Camille scooped waffles onto his plate, he cut a piece off of one with the side of his fork and examined it. “These are a little dark. Don’t you have some that aren’t burned?” “Oh, they’re not burned, they’re whole wheat. Cara says they’re better for you.” “I see.” The gambler dissected the waffle a bit more. “And what exactly are the greenish spots?” The dark-haired girl shrugged. “I didn’t ask. I’m pretty sure it’s something vegetarian. Maybe kale or quinoa?” “Aren’t waffles already vegetarian?” She tilted her head in confusion. “Wait … what are waffles made of?” “Never mind.” Sebastian peered over the counter at the fridge and then gave Camille a charmer’s smile. “Why is a girl like you trapped back there? You grew up in the lap of luxury, didn’t you? You don’t belong slaving away in the kitchen.” “I told Cara I’d help her out.” Camille looked over her friend, who was making another batch of waffles. “I want to feel more like other teenagers, and she said cooking would be a good learning experience for me.” “Well, she didn’t even tell you what’s in the waffles, so how much have you actually learned?” When the wealthy girl was unable to answer, the card-player shook his head. “Just as I suspected. Cara’s too busy cooking to be able to teach you anything.” “Well, she’s doing a lot of work.” The ditz bit her lipstick-coated lower lip. “I really just want to do a good job.” “Here, I’ll give you a tip.” Sebastian motioned for her to lean closer. “If anybody asks about the green specks, don’t say it’s quinoa or kale. Nobody wants to eat any of that rabbit food, we want something real, so say it’s green apple or strawberry.” “But strawberries aren’t green.” “''Ripe'' strawberries aren’t green, but we middle class people can’t afford the best. Sometimes we have to eat the green ones because the red ones are too expensive.” Camille’s dark eyes widened with excitement. “Really? I didn’t know that!” “See? Now you’re learning.” The gambler grinned. “Oh, and one more thing before I leave: if somebody that you think deserves something special comes up here, you should give them a bonus to make their food even better. Like I know there’re some blueberries or even some real strawberries in the refrigerator that would taste great on top of waffles.” “Okay, but …” The aristocrat lowered her voice. “How do I choose who deserves the real fruit?” “Well, there isn’t enough in there for everyone, so choose wisely. Only give it to people who are really good and have done something nice for you.” “Oh, I understand. Thank you.” Camille gasped in realization and then held up a finger. “Wait here for a moment!” She scurried over to the refrigerator, and Sebastian leaned against the counter with a smirk of satisfaction. The ditz returned with the box of strawberries and dumped a few on top of Sebastian’s waffles. “This is for taking the time to give me advice.” “Oh, for me? I’m flattered.” The broad-shouldered teen picked up his plate and gave her a grateful grin. “Thank you so much.” “You’re welcome!” Sebastian slid over to pour himself some juice, and Gabe approached the counter. Camille greeted him with a friendly smile as she placed two waffles on his plate. “Good morning, Gabe.” The bushy-haired boy looked between his plate and Sebastian’s. “I’d like some strawberries on mine.” “Oh, sorry, we don’t have enough left.” Camille hid the strawberry box under the counter. “But if you look in your waffle, you’ll see there’re some already in it. I don’t know if you know this since you’re rich too, but poor people actually eat green strawberries …” Sebastian sniggered to himself as he strolled over to claim a seat at The Emmys’ table, passing by a grumpy Avery in the process. The drama queen was fluffing her hair in her reflection in a fork, grunting when it failed to hold any volume. “Ugh, I hate rainy days.” The olive-skinned girl whined, collapsing into the open chair beside Irina. “The humidity always makes my hair go flat.” “Looks the same to me.” Isaac remarked through a mouthful of waffle. Avery glared across the table at him. “I’m still waiting for an apology from you.” “For what?” “Oh, don’t play dumb.” The Jersey girl rolled her eyes, though Isaac genuinely looked like he had no idea what she was talking about. “I know you remember what you said to me when we were editing the video. I was very offended.” “Really? I couldn’t tell.” Isaac deadpanned. “Why else would I have stomped away? I was emotionally hurt. I thought one of you would come after me, but nobody cared enough to get me.” “Can you blame us?” The slacker shoved another piece of food into his mouth, though he couldn’t ignore Avery’s burning stare. He sighed in defeat. “Fine. I’m sorry.” The diva continued to glower for a minute, though it was soon replaced with a content smile. “Thank you.” “Great. Now that that’s taken care of, I’m going to see if they have soda in the kitchen.” Isaac left the table with his glass, and Avery plucked the uneaten waffle from his plate. “I don’t understand why you care what he says.” Irina commented once the troublemaker was out of earshot. “He’s been a jerk to you the whole time we’ve been here.” “I’ve made this point before and I’ll keep making it.” The brunette declared. “''Nobody'' gets away with ignoring or disrespecting me, not even meaningless slackers.” Irina gave her a sly grin. “You’re sure you don’t just like him?” Avery snorted. “Oh, no way! I’ll admit he’s attractive for a guy who probably hasn’t changed his jeans in years, but there’s no way I could have feelings for someone who treats me like that.” “Hey, I was just double checking.” The Russian shrugged. “Situations like that are really common on this show.” “Well, it’s not going to happen here.” The drama queen took an assertive bite of her stolen waffle. “He can trick some other sap into falling in love with him.” Back at the food counter, the line had drastically shortened. Camille was placing a waffle on Wes’s plate when Isaac bumped the lanky boy aside and held his empty glass out to her. “Hit me up with something carbonated, will you?” “Are waffles carbonated?” Camille glanced down at where Wes had fallen on the ground, only to find that he lacked the energy to get back up and had made himself comfortable on the floor. “No, but soda is.” Isaac shook his glass at her. The confusion was obvious in the puckering of her scarlet lips. “What does that have to do with waffles?” The slacker groaned. “I’m looking for soda. Do you have some back there?” Camille giggled. “Oh, I’m sorry, but we’re only giving out breakfast drinks right now. You know: orange juice, milk, water?” “I know what you’re giving out, but that’s not what I’m looking for.” “Soda’s bad for you, and I don’t think it’d taste very good with waffles.” The ditz gave the underachiever a beautiful smile, which he returned with a sigh. “Can I just talk to Cara, please?” Camille called her roommate over from where she was washing a spatula. The tree hugger dried her hands and took the aristocrat’s spot at the counter, beaming at Isaac. “What’s up?” “I’m looking for some soda, and your airheaded roomie won’t give me any.” “She’s not airhe-” Cara glanced over her shoulder at Camille, who was squirting dish soap onto the already clean dishes, and chose not to finish her sentence. “You want soda with your waffles?” “Yes, I want soda with my waffles.” Isaac repeated. “Camille already gave me the bad for my health speech, so don’t bothering going there.” “Well … maybe I can find you some.” The environmentalist confiscated the dish soap from a bubble-covered Camille before she leaned over to dig through the refrigerator. Some items fell off of the door when she opened it, and she picked up a two liter soda bottle before it could roll across the kitchen. When Cara hoisted it up onto the counter, Isaac pointed at the layer of fizz gathering on top of the liquid. “Um, you’re sure you want to open that one?” “Oh, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Cara unscrewed the cap, and the bottle emitted a loud hiss before it burst into a geyser of fizz. They tried to jump back from the stream, but the nature lover and underachiever were showered with soda. The entire cafeteria went silent, all eyes on the pair of Oscars. When the bottle eventually emptied itself, it rolled off the counter, rudely awakening Wes by landing on his head. Isaac and Cara met eyes before erupting with laughter. “Told you so!” Isaac teased, lifting his glass to her. He had managed to catch a bit of the soda spray, and he downed the liquid like a shot. He put the empty glass on the counter and gave the tree hugger a smirk. "That was worth it.” Cara’s amused tittering was cut short by the cafeteria door slamming open. Chris McLean entered the room dressed in a bright yellow rain slicker and galoshes. “What time is it?!” He bellowed. “About ten o’clock.” Paul responded. “Wrong! It’s challenge time!” Chris cracked up at the chorus of whines he received. “Wait, I didn’t get to the best part – you’ll need your bathing suits for this one!” The complaints only grew louder. Twenty minutes later, the contestants had changed into their swimsuits and were gathered in the lobby. A couple had brought umbrellas to protect them from the rain, though most had chosen to brave the storm unprotected … Paul, however, was another story. “I don’t know if you realize this, but there’s a trash bag trying to eat you.” Robert commented. “It’s not a trash bag, it’s a poncho.” The Boy Scout crossed his arms over the slick, grayish green material that covered him from his head to his knees. “The Boy Scout motto is ‘be prepared,’ so I packed a survival kit in my luggage. This was in it.” “You’re sure it wasn’t supposed to be a fire safety blanket?” Robert joked. “No, it’s definitely a poncho.” Paul insisted. “I left the fire safety blanket up in my room.” “Hey, look at the walking/talking tent.” Isaac cackled when he and Angel passed by. Angel good-naturedly elbowed Paul in the side. “Chris said to change into your bathing suit, not your sleeping bag.” “That tarp might really help us cover the floor in our ‘paint Chef’s garage’ challenge!” Isaac clapped a hand on Paul’s back. “Good thinking, man!” “It’s not a tarp, it’s a poncho!” Paul shouted as they sauntered away. “You guys won’t be laughing when you’re soaking wet!” “Aren’t bathing suits supposed to get wet?” Robert muttered. Paul shushed his teammate. “Don’t ruin my argument.” “Shut up, dudes, it’s the important person’s turn to talk!” Chris climbed up on one of the armchairs and waited for the room to quiet down. When the chatter lowered to a dull roar, he opened up a bright orange umbrella in front of him. “What are you doing?!” Ophelia shrieked. “Opening an umbrella indoors is bad luck!” “If bad luck wants me, it’ll have to go through my agent first.” The host chucked. “Anyway, we’re going to have to walk a while to get to your challenge site, but the rain’s pretty brutal out there. If by some chance you can’t find me, look out for this.” He pressed a button on the umbrella’s handle and a small light beamed out from its center. “And why did we need to be in our bathing suits for this?” Monique asked. “You’ll find out soon enough.” Chris hopped down from the chair and pulled his jacket’s hood up, carefully maneuvering it so that it wouldn’t mess up his hair. Holding his umbrella safely over his head, he pushed open the double doors. “Let’s move out!” Confession Cam Monique: “You see, when normal people tell me to get in my bikini, it’s because we’re going in the pool or they just want to sneak a peek at my body, which I don’t mind because I’ve got it going on.” The trendsetter ran her hands down her hips. “When Chris McLean tells me to get in my bikini, apparently that means he wants me in the least clothing possible to go on a death march in the freezing rain. Normally I wouldn’t do it, but if somebody’s waving a million dollars in front of me I guess I can shiver my ass off for a few minutes.” Paul: “They’re all probably complaining about being wet, right? Well, guess who has a secret weapon?” He pointed at his poncho. “This guy!” “I can see that you’re all totally drenched.” The completely dry Chris smiled at the soaked, shivering contestants. “It all just gets worse from here. Welcome to the docks, where you’ll start your next challenge!” After being guided down a path at the edge of the forest, the grass merged with sand, and the nineteen contestants had found themselves on a shore. The sand dipped down to a small beach, with a long wooden dock above it stretching out as a path to the thrashing ocean. Two midsize boats were tied to posts on opposite sides of the deck, each equipped with a large sail and a pile of ropes and nets. A couple of the players stopped shaking long enough to awe at the ships, though most dreaded whatever challenge awaited them. “I know you’ve all seen those shows where they send a shipload of guys into the freezing water to catch the ingredients of a fresh fish ‘n’ chips special.” Chris hollered over the rain. “Well, today’s challenge is based off of those. Each team will be sent out on a boat and will sail on opposite sides of Ocean Island-” “Wait, we’re going out in that?” Wes grimaced, his knees knocking together from something other than the cold as a wave crashed over the edge of one of the boats. “What’s the matter, scared of water?” Monique asked with an arched brow. “Swimming is not my thing.” “Then you have nothing to worry about because you’ll be safe and sound on your boat.” Chris gestured towards the vessels, which were being battered around by the rain. “If worse comes to worst, I’m sure there’re a couple of life jackets on there somewhere-” “ … A couple?” Irina repeated. “Is there an echo out here?” Chris rolled his eyes. “Yes, a couple. You’re a team. Teams share.” “Can you just get on with it?” Elena whined. “I’m freezing my tits off here, and I’d prefer not to be in the tabloids for a botched boob job.” “I would’ve already been done by now if you all didn’t interrupt me!” The host huffed. “As I was saying, each team has to collect six crates underwater, which will each be marked by a buoy and a red flag tied to it. Figuring out how to get the crates out of the water will take some brainpower, but I will warn you that they’re too heavy for somebody to just dive under and grab. Your boat has a few tools on it to get you started. If you’re hit by a wave or your captain sucks and the supplies accidentally gets thrown overboard? All I can say is bummer, man. “When you have all six of your crates, come back to the dock. If it keeps raining like this, just look for the light on top of my umbrella to figure out which direction to go. As much as I’d like the ratings boost that’d happen if half of you were lost at sea, we have a twenty episode quota to meet and people get bored with non-eliminations, so you’re all here to stay. When you’re back at the beach, use whatever you find inside your crates to assemble something. I can’t tell you what that something is, but the first to finish making it wins! Any questions?” Camille shyly raised her hand. “How do you drive a boat?” The sadistic host only chuckled. “I have no idea. I figure you can learn through experience. The challenge begins when I untie your ships from the dock, with or without you on them.” When Chris stepped in the direction of the ropes, the nineteen competitors scurried past him and onto the fishing boats. Both teams were completely stumped on how to handle the challenge, and they were still scrambling around on deck when Chris untied them from the dock, sending them out to sea. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” “No, but how hard can it be?” Irina braced herself against a railing as Allison turned their boat sharply to the right. The daredevil was positioned behind a large wooden steering wheel that looked as though it could have come off of a pirate ship, which, judging by the fact that it looked ten times older than anything else on the boat, was only placed there for aesthetic reasons. The wheel was on an elevated platform at the back of the boat, with Irina crouching on the stairs leading up to it, the rest of the Oscars slipping and sliding on the deck in front of it. “I thought you’d said you’ve been driving boats since you were twelve?!” Irina shouted to Allison. “No, I said I’ve been driving since I was twelve. As in cars.” The punk corrected. “You think I’m rich enough to own a boat?” “Watch out, there’s a rock coming up on the right!” Cara cautioned from where she was perched at the bow of the boat. “Hold onto your bikini top, Irina, because I’m putting my driving skills to the test.” Allison rapidly spun the wheel in the opposite direction, sending her unprepared teammates flinging across the deck. Even though she’d had a tight grip on the railing, Irina was sent toppling down the stairs, landing roughly on her backside on the lower deck. “A little smoother next time, please!” Camille called, swinging her purse in an attempt to escape the tangle of nets she had landed in. “There’re a lot of loose objects down here!” “I’m doing the best I can!” Allison replied. “Well, could you at least warn us before you do that?” Irina requested, climbing back up to sit at the top of the stairs. “Hey, I gave you a warning.” The scarlet-haired girl pointed out. “You just listened too well and held onto your bikini top tighter than the railing.” Irina let out a curt laugh. “Why don’t you try a real warning next time?” Allison gave her a thumbs up. “Aye-aye, matey.” Down on the deck, Robert was leaning over the right side of the boat, his hands cupped around his eyes to shield them from the rain. Angel propped his elbows up on the railing beside him. “See anything good?” Robert shook his head in denial. “I can’t see anything at all.” “Yeah, the rain’s coming down pretty hard.” Angel lowered his voice. “Kind of makes me wish I had Paul’s poncho.” “What was that?” Paul chirped from across the deck. “Nothing, nothing!” “I’m pretty sure that was a compliment on my poncho!” “Trust me, it wasn’t!” Angel rested his forehead on his arms and shook his head in disappointment, Robert chortling at his side. Something caught the footballer’s eye, and he cut off his laughter to squint through the gray of the rain. Angel picked his head up when he realized his teammate had gone quiet. “What’s going on?” “Do you see that?” Robert pointed into the distance, where a hint of crimson peeked through the pouring rain. “Is that another boat?” “No, I think that’s a buoy!” The pyromaniac turned around and waved his arms at Allison. “We’ve got booty on the right side, captain!” “Thanks!” Allison grinned with excitement. “Everyone brace yourselves because we’re going on a booty call!” “I really think you should reword th-” Irina was cut off by Allison roughly twirling the wheel to the right, sending the model stumbling down the stairs. As their boat lurched, The Oscars scrambled to find the sturdiest object on deck for support. Eventually, they realized that object was Robert, so they all grabbed onto a part of the jock before they could be thrown across the boat. In the center of the dog pile, Robert put his arms around his two nearest teammates. “Aw, guys, I love you too.” When the boat straightened itself out again, the seven Oscars unlatched themselves from Robert and lined up against the side railing. Allison had pulled them up right next to the buoy, and a crate was just visible beneath the rippling water. “Okay, that’s not as deep as I thought it was.” Paul leaned farther over the rail. “Somebody want to hand me something to pull it out?” “Bad news, Poncho Villa. All we’ve got are fishing nets, a crap load of rope, and some scrap metal.” Isaac pulled at a coil of rope, which was snarled together with a net. “You want to use your Boy Scout skills to MacGyver something out of this?” “If we can bend some of the scrap metal, we can make a fishhook.” Avery suggested. “I’m sorry, I said Boy Scout skills, not Bitch Scout.” Isaac snarled at the drama queen. “That’s a stupid idea anyway.” “Oh, I’ve got it!” Camille gasped. “We can tie ropes to each corner of a net, and then attach the metal to it so it’ll sink. Then, we can pull the ropes to drag the box onto the boat.” Eight pairs of surprised eyes turned to the aristocrat. Cara wrapped an arm around her friend’s shoulders. “Camille, that’s a great idea! I didn’t know you had it in you.” “Thank you.” The black-haired girl shrugged. “I guess it just came to me.” “Oh, come on.” Avery groaned. “You have more faith in the airhead’s idea than mine?” The drama queen’s complaint didn’t receive a response, as her teammates’ attention was focused on Camille instead. “Doesn’t he look absolutely beautiful?” Ophelia swooned at the sight of Victor behind the captain’s wheel. The actor’s soaked hair was blowing in the breeze, and his face was screwed up with a look of concentration as he tried to see through the sheets of rain that obscured his view of the ocean ahead. The artist released a dreamy sigh and clasped her hands over her heart. “A magnificent sight, isn’t it Donna?” When her roommate failed to answer, the blonde postponed her admiration and looked around in confusion. “Donna? Where’d you go?” Even though she was shielding her eyes from the rain, it still was near impossible for Ophelia to distinguish who was who on the deck. She took a few steps closer to see if she could pick Donna’s silhouette from the pack, only to trip over something and topple to the ground. Instead of hitting the wood, she landed on something a bit softer, and the artist’s face lit up when she realized that the obstacle she’d failed to dodge was her sleeping roommate. She removed the net that Donna was using as a blanket and tugged on her arm. “What are you doing?” The smart aleck blearily rubbed the sleep from her eyes with her free hand. “You fell asleep, silly!” Ophelia pulled her friend to her feet, brushing the dirt from her shoulders. “I was trying to talk to you! I thought you ran away.” “Sorry, I’m just a little tired.” The smaller girl slicked her wet hair back away from her face. “What were you saying?” “That Victor is a wonderful captain!” Ophelia gazed up at the actor with a breathy sigh of admiration. “He’s like something straight off of the cover of a pirate romance novel! He’s so majestic, so heroic, so noble!” On the upper deck, Victor was screaming at a seagull that was flying dangerously close to their boat because of the rain. When the bird dropped a bomb in the form of a white blob from its rear end, the drama king barely dodged it. He began to threaten and shake his fist at the seagull, and Donna raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I can sense the magnificence from here.” Ophelia shook with excitement. “I thought I was the only one who could feel it! It gives me goose bumps!” “Hey, Victor, you’re getting dangerously close to taking out the left side of the boat!” Sebastian called from where he was positioned at the bow of the boat. Victor stopped patronizing the seagull long enough to spot a rock coming up on the ship’s left. “Oh, right, right!” He whirled the wheel in the opposite direction, sending the ship and its passengers sharply jerking to the right. Donna and Ophelia collapsed into the pile of nets, the artist letting out a giggle as her roommate started disentangling them. “Remind me again how he was elected captain?” “He said he was in a play once. Pirates of Penthouse?” “It’s Penzance.” The brunette corrected, though her usual blank, unenthused expression was momentarily replaced by a sympathetic glance towards her friend. “Just … be careful with Victor, okay? I know you have a crush on him, but that doesn’t mean he necessarily feels the same about you.” “Oh, I know that.” Ophelia replied. “He says a lot of pretty things to me, though, so I think-” “He borrows those ‘pretty things’ from Shakespeare, and I’m sure he says them to a lot of pretty girls.” Having found a gap in the fishing net prison, Donna reached a hand out to help Ophelia up. “I’m not saying Victor’s not a good guy. We hardly know him, but whenever he actually comes up with an original thought that wasn’t ripped from sixteenth century literature it’s always about himself. He’s an actor, so don’t let him fool you into thinking he cares about you too.” “I just think he came off the wrong way to you, that’s all.” The artist put her hands on the smart aleck’s shoulders. “If you saw him like I do, you’d know he’s so much more than all of that. I like being around him.” Donna plucked the other girl’s hands off of her. “And I’m not saying you should stay away. I’m just telling you to … to just watch out, okay?” “I see something red on the left!” The aforementioned actor announced. Ophelia’s gaze lingered on her crush for a moment before turning to nod at her roommate. “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for looking out for me.” “It’s … it’s what friends are for, right?” Donna gave her a tentative grin, which the blonde returned much more enthusiastically. “Of course. Now let’s see if we can help!” She grabbed the smaller girl by the wrist and led her to where their teammates had gathered against the left railing of the boat. Eager to get a closer view of the buoy, Ophelia bumped a few of her teammates aside to clear a space at the rail, sending Elena stumbling into Gabe. “Watch where you’re going, stupid!” Elena shrieked, regaining her balance and shoving Gabe in the arm. “Hey, you ran into me!” He countered. “Do you really think I’d make contact with you voluntarily?” “Oh, please. You’d need permission to put your hands on this celebrity, so you don’t have to worry your empty little head about that.” The socialite jabbed her finger into his chest. “And next time you try to lecture me about something, remember you’re the dumbass who wore a shirt and tie in the rain.” “How many times do I have to say it?” Gabe threw his hands in the air. “I want to look good on television! I have money and I want to show it!” “You’d think you’d use some of that money to buy a bathing suit then.” The rich jerk glanced down at the now soaking wet button up and slacks that he was wearing before staring at Elena in disbelief. “I own a bathing suit. I just chose not to wear it because the viewing audience isn’t worthy of seeing me semi-nude.” Elena snorted. “I think it’d just blind them.” “You’re just jealous you didn’t get to see.” Gabe crossed his arms. “Ew, ew, ew!” The hotel heiress stuck out her tongue. “If you’re so self-confident now, why didn’t you volunteer to drive the boat instead of Captain Camera Whore up there? Didn’t you say you have a yacht collection?” The bushy-haired teen guffawed at the idea. “You think I drive my own yachts?” “Will you two just shut up?” Sebastian snapped in the spoiled teens’ direction, sending Risty over to serve as a barrier between them. With the athlete separating them, Elena and Gabe miraculously stayed quiet, and Sebastian turned back to address his teammates. “As I was trying to say before these idiots talked over me, I’ve already thought of a plan to retrieve the crates. If we hit one of the pieces of scrap metal against the side of the boat, we can bend it into a fishhook. We tie our longest rope to one end of it and throw it into the water, leaving the other end on the boat for us to pull. Then, we tie another piece of rope around the crate so there is something for the hook to grab onto, and then we reel it in. The only problem is that we’ll need somebody to dive into the most likely ice cold water to tie it on.” “That’s a great plan, Sebastian.” Elena commented through her teeth, winding a bundle of rope around her arm. “I even know someone who’d be perfect to send into the ocean.” “Wow, you’re actually going to volunteer?” Gabe asked in genuine awe. “Nope. You are.” The socialite slammed the bundle of rope into Gabe’s chest, throwing him off balance. The rich kid and the rope tumbled over the railing, splashing down in the water below with a frantic yelp. The Emmys peered over the rail to try to locate their teammate. A head of brown curls bobbed above the surface a few feet away from the boat, and a pair of arms covered in a soaked dress shirt flailed around it. “It’s freezing!” Gabe calmed his chattering teeth long enough to spit a stream of water through his mouth. “Aw, darn, I was hoping you wouldn’t come up for air.” Elena remarked. “Good try, but I’m a fantastic swimmer.” He did a backstroke to demonstrate, though his kicking was weighed down by his soggy pant legs and shoes. He reached over to unlace his black dress shoes. “You couldn’t have at least let me take my shoes off first?” “You’re the loser who came fully dressed to a water challenge!” Elena ducked when Gabe tossed his shoes up onto the boat, “accidentally” aiming them for her head. “Stop fooling around and just get it over with!” Monique barked. “The faster you tie that rope, the faster you’re out of there!” Gabe groaned but took a deep breath and dove underwater. He was under for a minute before his head broke the surface again. “All done. Somebody want to pull me up?” As Wes helped Gabe back onto the ship, Sebastian and Risty threw the newly constructed fishhook over the side. With some careful maneuvering, they were able to snag the hook onto the rope tied around the crate and then started to yank it towards them. “We could use a little help here!” Risty grunted, and though she and Sebastian were probably the strongest members of the team, some of the other Emmys grabbed onto the rope as well to support them. With the assistance, the box was reeled in, and Monique untied the rope and used a piece of scrap metal to crack it open. “What the hell?” The designer struggled to pick up a smooth piece of stone from inside the box. A couple of the other Emmys crowded around her and removed several more stones from the box, each piece a different shape but all sharing a smooth surface and speckled coloration. “Does anybody have an idea of what we can make from these?” “What can they make from those?” The scene cut to a shot of Chris sitting on the end of the dock in a beach chair, his lit umbrella above his head. “Who’ll be able to survive the seven seas, and who will be thrown overboard? Was it really Avery that framed Zack? How can Gabe swim in dress clothes? Maybe you’ll find out after this commercial break!” <<< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >>>